


be my valentine

by quietmarvel



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: (which is tyrus), Established Relationship, F/F, Gay, M/M, Pining, people being oblivious and failing to confront their feelings, set junior year (so aged up), valentine's day fic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietmarvel/pseuds/quietmarvel
Summary: As Valentine's Day draws near, the Good Hair Crew and their friends worry about relationships and the school Valentine's Dance. Cyrus and TJ, boyfriends of a year, attempt to celebrate the other with grand gestures. Walker and Jonah both suffer from new and confusing crushes. Andi attempts to navigate the events of the past year including the fallout of her relationship with Jonah and developments in her friendship with Buffy, who also struggles to comprehend her own relationship and self troubles.





	1. Put Your Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine's Day Exchange on tumblr (for you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus)!

 

_You know that I want to be with you all the time._

 

Jonah snaps the headphones over his ears and half closes his eyes, back against the bench. It’s a romantic song, too peppy for his current mood, but he can’t stop listening to it. He taps one foot against on the tiled floor while Grant students shove by each other.

 

_Oh darling, darling, baby you're so very fine_

_You know that I won't stop until I make you mine_

 

He’s so sick of love songs. Andi loves them: Taylor Swift and Meghan Trainor and Beyonce. So maybe there’s a reason behind his newfound annoyance with sappiness on the radio. But this one keeps sticking in his head. Jonah imagines reaching out his hand and taking someone else’s. And for the first time in a very, very long time, the person holding his hand in his imagination isn’t Andi. And it’s not Amber, or Natalie, or anyone else.

As half of Grant high school shoves by him, Jonah pushes the headphones down around his neck. He can hear his heart pounding way-too-loudly in his chest, and there’s a continuous beat and song inside his head.

 

_Until I make you mine_

 

And all he can think is: _just in time for Valentine’s Day._

 

_————_

 

“Driscoll, catch!” Andi ducks out of the way just in time for Buffy to catch the miscellaneous basketball team member’s thrown shoe. She stares at it in confusion, but Buffy just shoves it into her backpack, gives a quick wave of thanks to the girl sprawled out on the bench, and turns back to Andi.

“Eleanor took my shoe on accident,” she explains, but Buffy’s eyes have already moved on from this conversation. They drift upwards to the large pink banner strung across Grant’s entrance, which is currently being pinned up and decorated with paper heart chains. Andi doesn’t stop to consider how an extra shoe can be taken accidentally and instead gapes up at the poster.

“Since when do we have a Valetine’s Day Dance?” Andi asks.

As if summoned by the deity of high school cheesiness, Student Council president Kip Warren steps into their path. “Since you juniors started sucking at raising money for our prom.We’re having a fundraiser dance—you buy candygrams and roses for people for three times the prices we bought them for. And we’re using that money to pay for a _real_ prom, not one which you idiots scheduled in someone’s garage.” Kip storms away, and a lone senior—one of Amber’s friends—starts applauding.

“He’s _way_ too salty. I heard that our student council planned a good prom but he’s just picky and annoying. Ugh,” Buffy says, glaring after him.

“And they’re probably spending more money on this dance then they’ll make from a few candygrams, honestly.” Andi bends over to grab a cardboard heart, which she reattaches to the wall.

“Cyrus is going to have a field day, though,” Buffy says. She looks curiously over at Andi. “Do you think you’ll go?”

Andi feels something rush through her: undeserved indignation, maybe, accompanied by an annoying blush she wishes would go away. “I mean… are you?”

“I would suggest the Good Hair Crew go, but you already know Cyrus is dedicating this night to his boy.” Buffy shrugs. “We could go together? Single and unattached?”

If Andi were eating cereal right now, she would choke. She hasn’t been to any date-requiring function since her year-long disaster of a breakup with Jonah. And now _Buffy Driscoll_ had the audacity to stand in front of hear with her cheeks blushed dark and her eyelashes clipping her cheeks and ask her to the dance.

“I mean—sure! Maybe Amber could go with us too?”

“You don’t think Amber is going to ask Iris? I think she’ll finally get the nerve to do it. I should probably make a bet on it,” Buffy considers, digging for her wallet and frowning slightly.

“Maybe we should ask boys?” Andi counters, suddenly. Buffy glances up at her, and the look in her eyes could kill.

“Maybe I’ll ask Natalie. She’s cute.”

Andi can’t even respond to that. So she does what she learned best from her mother; she changes the subject.

“So, Buffy. What’d you think of the movie you and Cyrus saw?” Andi tilts her head, meeting Buffy’s eyes again. She thinks of the cheesy block letters glued to the Valentine’s Day Banner: _Will you be our Valentine? February 14th at 7._ Two weeks away.

Buffy knows this game, but Andi watches her play along. “Best Summer of My Life 2? It was alright. Not as good as the first one. The love story kind of sucked—classic girl meets bad boy trope.”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Andi says, adjusting the straps on her backpack.

“Yeah, well. How was Iris’s?”

Andi has a momentary flashback to Amber and Iris chucking Skyzone dodgeballs at her while shrieking filled the general vicinity. Somehow, Iris had been convinced to have a birthday at a trampoline place, and _somehow_ , Amber had been coerced into going along with it.

“Horrifying.”

Buffy laughs uncomfortably, and Andi can hear the nonexistent joke fall flat. How long has it been like this? How long has the Good Hair Crew been out of sync, and the tension between Buffy and Andi unbreakable?

Almost a year. Too long.

“Well, I’ve got Lit. See you later?” Buffy doesn’t bother waiting around for an answer to the question. She strides away, and it’s all Andi can do to avoid staring directly at the back of her head as she leaves.

“Ask Natalie,” Andi scoffs to herself, kicking at a spot on the ground. Cyrus would call her pettiness levels off the chart, but Andi doesn’t have any other way to react to Buffy. It’s not just the ever-rotating list of new girls; it’s Buffy’s obvious annoyance with Amber, it’s Buffy’s piercing eyes and sharp, true smile she hasn’t worn in so long. It’s Buffy’s acceptance of whatever is between them, while Andi flounders, trying to pretend she’s still in the waters of freshman year, when Jonah was her only problem.

When did the thoughts in her head get so complicated? _Don’t answer that_ , she tells herself, because she already knows the answer. Andi lifts her phone from her pocket and starts absentmindedly scrolling through her old photos. There’s Cyrus and TJ sharing a milkshake with Buffy’s arms around them. There’s Amber trying on a faded leather jacket and Andi wearing a worn suit at the Thrift Store. Andi and her mom attempting gardening while Bowie laughed in their general direction. Buffy, Cyrus, and Andi holding on for dear life while ice skating two winters ago. Further back, there’s Jonah kissing Andi on the cheek, and Marty with his arm around Buffy and Andi with her arm around Jonah on some ridiculous double date. There’s a couple miscellaneous photos of Cyrus in his costume from the musical. And then, from about a year ago—

Andi’s cheeks color red. Red, like the sauce on Bex’s homemade pizza she recently learned to cook. Red, like the color of the Space Otters’ failed sophomore year uniforms. And she shuts her phone.

 _This_ is why it’s so hard to talk to Buffy. More than the color of her eyes or the defiance in her words, it’s the specific memory every time Buffy smiles at her. It’s the memory that’s controlling her.

Andi glances back at the Valentine’s Day banner, and sticks her tongue out just for good measure. She won’t let a stupid dance run by stupid Kip Warren control her too.

Then, from behind, a hand grabs her by the shoulder and starts dragging her backwards. Andi yelps, already running through the list of eight things she learned in self-defense class with Bex this summer. Quote: if you’re not a strong athlete your best hope is to hit where it hurts. Anywhere.” Andi is about ready to swing when the arm drags her into a closet and reveals the body attached to it.

“Cyrus?”

“Sorry,” he pants, as if the physical effort to kidnap her from the hallway was exhausting. “Top secret… information.”

“Oh?” Andi says, suddenly interesting. “Another cult?”

“Heck no,” Cyrus says. “I’ve got a plan for Valentine’s Day, for TJ. But I wanted to run it by you and Buffy first. And probably Jonah too.”

Andi starts to smile, leaning back against the shelves on the wall. “Spill.”

“Well… since his big game is on Valentine’s Day…” Cyrus leads in, unable to contain his grin.

“Go on.”

“I was thinking… we could all go… and hold up signs—“

“Signs for TJ! Valentine’s Day signs?!” Andi puts a hand over her mouth. “Cyrus, that’s adorable. No, it’s perfect!”

“Yeah, and I’d ask him to the dance, and we’d go afterwards, and hopefully he won his big game, and then the dance would be super romantic, and he could take the signs home and hang them up on the walls of his room, and we’d take polaroids before the dance in our suits, and you guys would be there—“  
“Thought about it much?” Andi cuts in, but her lips curl upwards with excitement. The mention of the dance is the only sour bit—Andi doesn’t need that subtle reminder that she’ll never know how to not be awkward with Buffy about it. She’ll never know how to articulate what she wants, so she’ll be stuck watching TJ and Cyrus and maybe Buffy and Natalie or some other random girl get their perfect Valentine’s Days.

“Well, maybe a little. Anyways, do you like?”

Andi breaks out of her thoughts. “I don’t like, I _love._ When do we make the signs?”

“This weekend maybe? To be ready by that Friday?”

“You got it, Cyrus. Text Buffy, she’ll be thrilled.”

Cyrus narrows his eyes. “She will not. I’m betting she doesn’t want to help with the signs, so it might just be you and me.”

“Aw, Buffy’ll help if you ask her.” TJ and Buffy don’t fight anymore, but it suffices to say that they’re not exactly best friends.

“I’m already asking her to hold up one of the signs. And especially if she ends up with a crucial word—for example, Valentine—I can’t risk losing her support. I’ll just ask her about that and see how it goes.”

Andi smiles. “You and TJ have been dating for a year now, Cyrus.” _Strange_. A lot happened a year ago. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hold up a sign. She just might not cheer for him.”

Cyrus nods, laughing a little. He types out a text on his phone to Buffy, sends it, then looks back up at Andi, looking a little panicked. “Should I tell Jonah? I need him to hold up the sign that says TJ. I don’t think he’s busy that weekend, the Otters don’t have a game—“  
“Text him,” Andi reassuresCyrus. He nods and types out the text while still looking up at her.

“I need Buffy, Jonah, you, and Amber. I’ll text Amber and Jonah tonight.”

“You’re asking TJ’s _sister_ to help with his Valentine’s Day ask?” Cyrus and Amber have been friends since middle school, and it’s still hard for Andi to wrap her head around sometimes that Cyrus is dating the brother of one of Andi’s closest friends and is additionally friends with her. It’s the type of friendship that thrives off drama, and Andi has a feeling that even if Cyrus and TJ break up (which it seems like they never will), Amber and Cyrus will be close until the ends of the earth.

“Of course. Who else was I supposed to ask? Walker?” Cyrus asks, giving Andi a look. It’s a group-acknowledged truth that Andi drove Walker from the group, even if Buffy was the last one who dated him. Walker hasn’t hung out with them for a year and a half now, except maybe a few times with Jonah. Andi misses him and his lovely creativity, but she doesn’t miss the drama he brought; Buffy was happier with Marty than with him, but then she was happier by herself than with Marty. Andi blinks slowly, realizing how this topic has made its way back to her again.

“Amber will be fine,” Andi assures, her mind not really on Cyrus or TJ. “You think she’ll finally get the guts to ask out Iris?”

Cyrus shrugs. “I hope so. Who are you going with, anyways? Not Jonah—“

“No.”

A pause.

“Jonah is my friend, yes. But I’m done being romantic with him.” Andi stops, because the words sound harsh, even if they are true. “Buffy and I are just gonna go together, like old times.”

Cyrus smiles a half smile, because old times would include him too. And all three of them know that they’ve moved on from old times. Maybe Andi the most. And yet.

“I’m gonna go find TJ now. Keep the plan under wraps, ‘kay? Friday afternoon we can pick out supplies?”  
“Glitter glue!” Andi says, and she can’t stop it from coming out like a squeal. “Count me in.”

Cyrus steps out, the brightness of his phone lighting up the dim closet, and leaves Andi alone, still against the wall.

Alone.

In the closet.

Andi nearly throws her phone across the room.

 

————

 

There are three parks in downtown Shadyside: the tiny one off the elementary school, the Valley Park where legend says a swamp monster lives, and Agley Park. Agley is where coffee shop people go to be in nature; it’s also, incidentally, Walker’s favorite place in town. The Saturday morning is crisp, with light winter fog in the air, and Agley looks like the rolling fields and forests of some picturesque Scottish village. The only piece of color barring the serenity is the hunk of metal in the middle of one of the squares; that hunk of metal, though, is what has drawn Walker downtown this early on a Saturday.

“It’s kind of… underwhelming?”

Walker ignores the voice to his right and keeps reading the printed plaque beneath the statue. _Installed four weeks ago_ , reads the monotone font, _the Rest of Infinity display serves as a reminder to all viewers of the eternity of space and its never-ending mystery. The 20-foot tall sculpture contains seventeen rotating pieces and thousands of tiny gears. The reflective paints were mixed by the artist herself, and the glass portions were blown by her as well._ Walker is aching to reach for a sketchbook and draw it, but he promised himself that this time he would just look. So he does.

After a while, the same voice cuts in. “So maybe I’m starting to see why Cyrus can be such a science nerd sometimes…”

Walker looks over his shoulder at Amber Kippen, who is wearing a faux leather skirt and carrying a latte. They were in the same studio class—much to Walker’s chagrin at first, who had found Amber’s eclectic, relaxed approach to art to be flighty. But when Amber’s realism came out looking like a photographic negative, and when her paints were soft pastels that fit perfectly into her nature theme, then Walker decided to give up on judging before he knew things.

And now, lo and behold, Walker and Amber were visiting an art exhibition outside of school. Together. For fun.

“I really like the colors on the back few layers,” Walker says finally, and his voice sounds gravelly from lack of use. “And the way the black pieces spiral to infinity first, with the smaller pieces following behind.”

Amber nods, and Walker notes that she’s not really listening. “Do yo know who would love this?”

“Yeah?” Walker does know, because there’s only ever one right answer. But he holds off.

“Iris.”

Amber’s eyes get dreamy when she’s talking about Iris, her crush of many a year. Walker recognizes the look because it’s the look he used to see on Andi’s face when talking about Jonah. Buffy’s face when talking about Marty. The faces of people in love with someone else, not him.

“I’m sure she would, Her photography project is so cool, maybe she could take pictures of the statue—“

“I think I need to ask her to the dance,” Amber says suddenly. “It’s now or never, right? Senior year will be too late. It’s got to be now.”  
“What dance?”

Amber looks shocked, offended, horrified, embarrassed—everything on the list—that Walker is unaware of said dance. “Uh, Grant’s Valentine’s Day Dance. On account of the fact that Kip Warren and the dance team girls want prom to not be in someone’s basement this year. But Iris!”

Walker considers this, as they start to walk away from the statue and back toward Amber’s car. He listens to Amber’s list of reasons: “We texted all last night, and she ended with a heart, not me. We’ve held hands twice and been to four movies alone together. Her eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and her bangs are so nice and her smile…”

In his head, Walker wants to make a comparison to something he’s feeling for another person. But he won’t let himself. Pretty eyes…hanging out alone together. His breath is catching, and Amber’s voice fades a little in the background. And that dance…

“Walker? Walker!” Startled out of a daydream, Walker feels Amber’s arm in front of his chest and suddenly sees the curb drop away in front of him. “Absent-minded much?”

“Call it an artist’s trait,” Walker says dizzily. He can’t stop thinking about the crush—shit, a crush—and it’s like the world is falling to pieces. It _can’t_ be real, not over one movie and an air hockey game and a couple walks home from school. Maybe if he doesn’t think it, then it won’t be real.

“Walker.” Amber’s statement pulls him completely back to the surface, where he faces Amber’s scrutinizing gaze. “Are you going to ask anyone to the dance?”

Oh no. Walker opens his mouth to say something, and then doesn’t. They keep walking, but Amber’s eyes are staring him down with all the intensity she used to have as Grant’s resident mean girl. It’s the look she gets when she sees something she wants—or wants to know—and will do anything to get it.

“Um.”

“Um? Don’t give me that, Walker Brodsky. I spill my guts to you about Iris regularly. Now it’s your turn: who’s your crush?”

Walker blushes, reaching above his head to tug on a tree branch. “Amber, I—“

There’s a small voice in Walker’s head, and it’s trying to overcome the wave of anxiety he has about this situation. The voice is saying: _Amber will understand._

 _Amber, who came out as lesbian when she was a freshman in high school. Amber, who goes to the LGBT alliance and activism meetings on a regular basis and cites it as her most important extracurricular, even more than dance or studio. Amber, who cries while listening to Heaven by Troye Sivan. Amber, who is staring at him right now with her Annabeth Chase-esque gray eyes and inquisitorial eyebrow raise. Amber, who has_ dated—

“Jonah.”

Amber doesn’t miss a beat, but Walker is already dizzy from the weight of the word.

“Jonah! Of all the people at school, you chose Mr. Heartbreak himself?”

“Um.”

Jonah _is_ Mr. Heartbreak, isn’t he? Walker thinks of Andi, and the disaster that was the final six months of her and Jonah’s relationship. Jonah, who Andi always like more than him. Jonah Beck, who Walker first met at the art gallery, and then at the color factory, and then at canoeing. A couple months ago Walker ran into Jonah outside the skate shop, and they ended up making plans to see a movie in town they both wanted to see. Then, Walker started seeing Jonah more at school, and they were partners on a Bio assignment. The events keep spilling over themselves in his mind, and Walker feels two things: one, _feelings_. A crush. Like he had on Andi. The second thing is what has been washing over him for months and what kept him from telling Amber in the first place: he’s scared.

“Yeah,” Walker says, just to affirm it. “I like Jonah.” And there it is, again, the feeling in his chest of relief and anxiety all at once.

Amber nods as the rolling park ends and she clicks her key fob in the general direction of her station wagon. “Okay. Well, considering I’ve dated him, I’m probably authorized to give some advice—“

“No, Amber. He’s not even into guys; there’s no use thinking about it.” Walker slides into the passenger seat and takes out his phone from the glove box to start typing out notes about the statue.

“Walker, you never know. I mean, he’s never said that he does like boys, but he’s never said that he doesn’t—“

“That’s useless,” Walker says, keeping his eyes trained on his phone. “He’s straight, whatever. Let’s go home.”  
“Don’t play this card. You’re not the first person to fall for someone who you think is straight, and you won’t be the last, not by a long shot. Guess what? Jonah hasn’t said that he’s straight. So you have a chance. Don’t waste it.” Amber’s voice gets quiet at the end, as the grips the wheel of the still-parked car. Walker thinks of Iris, and he sees the pain of pining in Amber’s eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You can’t give up either.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, whatever.” She sounds just like Walker did moments ago, but Walker doesn’t push.

“So…do you still want to give me some advice on Jonah Beck?”

Amber starts to laugh, and she reaches across to give him a shove. “Of course, Walker Brodsky. Of course.”

 

————

 

“Heads up!”

Buffy runs in anyway and snags the rebound away from TJ. She brings the ball back to the top of the key, eyebrows poised in challenge, and checks the ball to him. Then she pounds it into the floor, slipping beside TJ to get in an easy layup.

“That’s 18 to 17,” Buffy pants as TJ sets it back up.

“Careful, Driscoll, don’t get too confident,” TJ warns, crossing the ball to take a shot from just inside the three-point line. The ball circles the rim, achingly close to the net, but rolls back out and sinks to the court.

“Missed me, missed me, now you got to—“ TJ interrupts Buffy’s taunt with a shove, and Buffy laughs as she grabs the ball and shoves it back into his hands.

“I will not,” TJ says, “allow you to complete that sentence.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buffy laughs. “Don’t worry, I have no interest.”

“Good,” TJ asserts, and his next shot is nothing but net.

Three points later and Buffy has won the game, but they don’t keep score, shockingly. One-on-one has become a daily occurrence after their respective practices, because TJ has to wait for rehearsal to end to drive Cyrus home anyways. Cyrus tried to convince him that he could just go home on the late bus, but TJ has insisted.

“Ready for next Friday?” Buffy asks, once they’re done playing and are just dribbling around.

“I hope,” TJ says, chucking the ball up with zero regard. Buffy catches it and looks over at him.

“You better be ready for Valentine’s Day. I know Cyrus is excited.”

TJ does a double take, and Buffy laughs like she’s caught him unaware. “Well, yeah I’m ready for Valentine’s Day. Or I will be. But the game—“  
“Screw the game,” Buffy says, and drives the basketball into the ground. “I mean—sorry. Screw my game, not yours.”

“What’s up? How’s the team doing?” TJ holds his hands out, and she throws it at him. He’s always tried to be somewhat lenient towards Buffy in her captaining, because he knows it must be hard carrying the girls basketball program on her shoulders. When they came to Grant, Buffy had to leave behind her newly-founded middle school team for a program that’s only improvement on Jefferson’s was the fact that it was school-mandated. The past few years Buffy has been constantly trying to mend a rivalry with Kira while simultaneously attempting to take the team to the next level.

“We’re doing alright. But we’ll be playing teams in the region tournament that have AAU girls and are state-ranked. I don’t want to get eliminated in the first round, but that looks like what we’ll be getting. And I’m trying to deal with Kira, but I really can’t—“ Buffy stops.

TJ shakes his head. “You can’t be so hard on yourself, Buffy. Regionals is a hard tournament, and it’s okay if you guys—“

“No! It’s not,” Buffy shouts, and her eyes flash. TJ steps back, because this is starting to feel too much like middle school. “I have to do well, and you don’t get to talk to me like that. Why don’t you talk to me like you would a teammate—“ Buffy stops.

TJ knows some people think Buffy can be harsh, but she’s harder on herself than she is on anyone else. The thing about being friends with her is never knowing exactly how to handle it. If Cyrus were here, he would know, but Cyrus is onstage pretending to be Lysander from _A Midsummer Night’s Dream._

“If you were my teammate, I would tell you to stop worrying and play the game. It goes how it goes. And I’d tell you to get along with Kira. You have to,” TJ says.

“Yeah,” Buffy breathes. “Sorry. Now pass me the ball.”

TJ obliges, and she dribbles in for a layup. He doesn’t know if he handled it right; but, he did something. Which is better than nothing. Now back to the matter at hand.

“So, Driscoll,” he calls. “What else has Cyrus said about Valentine’s Day?”

“That’s not for me to tell,” Buffy shrugs, starting to smile. “But I hope you’re taking him to the dance.”

“Uh, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am? Of course we’re going.”

“Alright, good,” Buffy says, taking a jump shot.

“And,” TJ says, excitedly, “It’ll actually be fun. We’ve got the games, which everyone is coming to, and then the dance in the gym. Cyrus is coming over after, and we’re going to bake cookies and watch a movie—“  
“Okayyy, I do not need to hear about your big date,” Buffy cuts in. TJ bites the insides of his cheeks so she won’t blush, because he had been planning a sort of date with Cyrus. But Buffy doesn’t need to know that. “But you’re right, it’ll be sweet. If your idea of romance is dancing in a sweaty gym in the dark.”  
TJ, who had been jogging back from the ball rack where he put away the basketball, stops to put his hands on his hips. “While you may be a cynical human being, Cyrus is a romantic—“

“So are you, TJ Kippen, don’t even try.”

“I refuse to acknowledge that statement. Buffy, you _must_ come to the dance. It’s a part of the high school experience: the big game and then the sweaty prom.”

“Sweaty prom.”

“Sweaty prom!” TJ yells and does a spin around the gym. It’s exhilarating, he thinks, to have caring friends and a team he love to be on and a boyfriend who likes him back and has for over a year. And speaking of said boyfriend—

Cyrus enters the gym, and they both hear his hard-soled theater shoes from across the room.

“Cyrus!” Buffy shouts, and runs over to him. TJ follows. “Save me from TJ, he’s trying to force me to go to… wait for it… the dance!”

Cyrus snorts, and swings his drawstring bag over his shoulder. “TJ, are these accusations trustworthy?”

“Very,” TJ says, pulling in Cyrus under his arm.

“In that case, I support them. Buffy, we need you to go the dance! Who else will ridicule their music choices and teach Gus how to do the cha cha slide?”  
“First of all, the instructions are in the song. Second of all—“ Buffy’s phone dings from inside her pocket, and she stops immediately to check it. TJ raises his eyebrows at her as she frowns at the tiny screen, then stops frowning and smiles a tiny bit. TJ runs through in his mind who it could’ve been—not Marty, who Buffy parted with freshman year. He shrugs it off—a mystery for another time.

“Got to go,” Buffy says, and rushes off to the locker room.

“Buffy,” Cyrus calls, then shakes his head. “She’s been weird lately. I’m not sure what’s up.”

TJ nods absentmindedly, then turns to Cyrus. “How was rehearsal?”

Cyrus’s eyes go wide. “Some freshman dropped a set piece on Amber and she broke her pinky!”

“WHAT.” TJ feels his voice get quiet.

“Yeah, it’s okay though, it’ll be healed in two weeks. Show isn’t for another month. She said it feels fine.”  
“Fucking—sorry, fricking—freshman. Idiots, all of them,” TJ says, pulling Cyrus by the hand over to the bleachers so he can grab his bag.

“Can’t argue with that,” Cyrus shrugs, and they start to head to TJ’s car.“Oh, and Amber told me to tell you she’s staying out late tonight, so don’t wait up for her.”

“She’s going out with a broken pinky?”

“She’s got a tiny cast; she’ll be alright.” TJ squints, unconvinced. “Anyways, how was your practice?”

TJ pulls Cyrus against his side. “The usual, you know. You’re bringing the whole gang out to the games on the 14th, right?”

He nods and wraps his arm around TJ’s waist. “I can’t wait.” Then he does that Cyrus-smile: with his lips upturned to his cheeks, and his eyes intense. “It’s Valentine’s Day too, you know,” he says sweetly.

“Oh, trust me,” TJ says. He puts both his arms on Cyrus’s shoulders and pulls him into a kiss. “I know.” Cyrus blushes when he pulls away, and TJ spins him towards the car.

“Movie tonight?” Cyrus asks. TJ bites his lip, then shakes his head.

“I wish. I’ve got precalc homework which is going to take me approximately four hours,” TJ says, slipping into the drivers’ seat. “Ms. Walters is evil, I swear.”

“I’ll be sending good luck in your direction,” Cyrus says as he buckles his seatbelt. TJ drives to Cyrus’s house, and on the way they listen to Billie Eilish and discuss the day’s events, their feelings towards pineapples, and Degrassi, their show. By the time TJ pulls into Cyrus’s driveway, it’s gotten dark and Cyrus’s eyelids are slipping closed. TJ smiles over at him and bops his nose with his index finger. Cyrus blinks awake, focuses on the house, and smiles a sleepy smile. Struck, as he is daily, by how cute Cyrus is, TJ leans across the seat and kisses him. Cyrus takes TJ’s hand, squeezes it, and tumbles out the door with his bags.

“See you tomorrow, underdog!” Cyrus turns to wave back at him, and TJ can still see the soft smile on his face.

As he drives away, TJ stops at the intersection that breaks off back to the Kippen house, and he takes a left instead of a right. He thinks about Cyrus’s excitement over Valentine’s Day and the dance as he pulls into the Target parking lot. _Cyrus Goodman_ , he thinks, his own smile filling his features, _you deserve the world._


	2. Hey, My Love

_You've walked out a hundred times_

_How was I supposed to know this time_

 

Jonah has been to seven concerts in high school, and the only one he really cared about was Harry Styles with Andi freshman year. Last year, during a period of time when he and Andi were actually getting along well, Andi had come to him begging him to accompany her to the King Princess concert. By the time the concert arrived, though, they were “taking a break” again, and Andi took Amber instead.

Jonah had gotten attached, though, to one song from her: _Talia_. That was the song stuck in his head while he strummed the guitar on Tuesday afternoon in the Red Rooster. It reminded him of the disaster of his relationship with Andi, but it made him think, more than that, of the new feelings he had.

“Earth to Jonah?” He snapped his neck up, bent over the guitar, and adjusted his fingers in the frets. Bowie was staring across at him, suspicious of his lack of focus.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll try again,” Jonah says, trying to shake the prior thoughts out of his head. He aligns his fingers for the first chord and goes to play, but Bowie shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish for today. You’ve worked hard, and I figure you need a break.”

Jonah nods and puts the guitar up on the stand. A text from his mom tells him that she won’t be there for another half an hour, so Jonah goes to browse through the records. A early memory of a time with Andi flickers in his mind, but he shuts it out. Every place in Shadyside, every school hall and bike path and storefront, has some memory of Andi and him. It’s impossible.

As he drums his fingers over the stacks of records, Jonah allows the new feeling to wash over his mind. A crush, a crush, a crush, is the heartbeat in his head. He feels guilty, even though he and Andi have been permanently apart for four months. Is he allowed to like someone else? After a relationship that lasted nearly four years, on and off?

And what makes it worse is who the person is. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the universe blessed him with feelings for the one person in the world Andi might be truly hurt to see him with.

Freaking Walker Brodsky.

_Walker._

Walker!

The one Andi went on a couple dates with. The one Andi left so she could be completely with Jonah. The one Jonah hung out sporadically over the years until Andi and Buffy basically wrote him out of their friend group. The one Jonah in the past couple months has been hanging out with and texting. The one he now has an unfortunate, overwhelming, obvious crush on.

Jonah picks up a record and squints at it: a love song. Great.

“Hey Jonah, do you need a ride home?” Bowie steps into his line of vision and smiles at him.

“No, thank you my mom’s coming, I’m just going to look at the records for a bit. Maybe shop.”

Bowie nods and returns to the register where he empties the tip jar slowly. It occurs to Jonah suddenly that Bowie has never once acted strange since Andi and Jonah’s final breakup. He’s been the same eclectic, guitar-teaching Bowie the whole time, which is odd. Jonah knows the Macks to be a family where emotions run high.

He walks to the pick shelf, where several higher-end designs stick out to him. His mom would probably say it’s stupid to spend money on a better-looking plastic triangle; but then again, his mom would say a lot of things are stupid. Like Jonah being upset over Andi. Like Jonah having a crush on a boy.

He glances down at his phone: no new messages from his mom. So he picks out the best-looking pick from the shelf—nine dollars for the unique design—and takes it to the register. Bowie looks up as he places a crumpled twenty on the counter and pushes both items towards him.

“Splurging for a new pick?” Bowie asks, ringing it up.

“Seems worth it.” Bowie wraps the pick and hands him his change, then considers him for a moment.

“Jonah, would you… would you ever be interested in working here?”

Silence engulfs the store for a moment as Jonah processes that.

“Working _here_? As in… ringing up customers, organizing records, polishing guitars?” Already, Jonah has an answer in his head: _yes._ He needs a job if he’s ever going to be able to get out from under his mom’s harsh influence. And he loves the guitar shop because it makes him feel safer than most other places. Andi’s apartment and room used to be his safe space, when they were on good terms. But not anymore.

“Yes, exactly. I mean, you’re almost 17, right. A job would be nice, and we have lots of room for a spot.” Bowie leans back against the wall. “Plus you’d get to clean and fix guitars all day while listening to music. _Good_ music.”

“Thank you! I—I’ll ask my mom about it tonight, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Jonah doesn’t know how he’ll broach the subject with his mother, not without her yelling at him about irresponsibility and disappointment. He takes the packaged pick and slips it in his pocket with the change. A job would be so nice, and it would mean he could escape the house more often. Stay out late after work and hang out with Walker. Avoid his mom.

Jonah hates that that’s the thought in his head, but it is.

He sits back down on the lesson couch and is about to pick up a music magazine when Bowie sits down across from him. “Jonah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are things going with you and Andi?”

Jonah stares. He stares, and then he swallows down an outburst. “Bowie, we—we broke up four months ago.” Jonah doesn’t know if Andi didn’t tell Bowie or if Bowie simply forgot, but the shock on his face suggests the former.

“You broke up?”  
“Yes, sir. We were off and on for a long time and finally she—we both decided it was time to put a final end to it. We’ve always been better off as friends but afraid to acknowledge it,” Jonah says carefully. He fiddles with the pick in his pocket, twisting it over and back four times.

“Jonah, I had no idea,” Bowie says. “Andi, she—“ he cuts off, stands up, and walks to the register. Jonah can see his mind processing as he blinks several times with his whole face and messes with the cash register drawer.

“Didn’t tell you?” Jonah asks softly, then regrets it. No response from Bowie, who looks like a lost puppy. Jonah starts to feel bad that he’s been left out from this crucial piece of Andi’s life, because Bex surely knows about it. That’s why Jonah has been avoiding Cloud 10 for months: fear of Bex and Cece.

It occurs to Jonah now that Bowie may be angry with him. May not want to give lessons to his daughter’s very permanent ex. May not want to give him a job. That last one is the killer; if Andi loses him this job then her curse on his life in Shadyside will be complete.

“Why did you break up, exactly?” Bowie asks, once he’s regained a bit of composure. Jonah nods, and then tries to explain.

“Andi and I have always been close friends, and while we were dating bad things usually happened because of our feelings for each other. We created drama or hurt ourselves somehow. It wasn’t meant to be, or at least it wasn’t meant to be romantic. We just didn’t work out.” Jonah finishes, feeling like he’s explained it well. He doesn’t add in the part about Andi being distant the last six months of their relationship, and he definitely leaves out the part about Jonah realizing his own bisexuality and dual attraction to boys as he was dating Andi.

Instead of responding, Bowie just nods. And he keeps nodding, obviously upset, until Jonah’s mom arrives in her truck and honks the horn several time. He waves goodbye, but gets nothing in return from the Bowie lost in his thoughts. Before Jonah leaves, though, he walks through the record section one more time and returns back to the section where he found the love song earlier. He searches through the old love songs until he finds Be My Baby by the Ronettes. Dragging his fingers over the rough record slip, Jonah thinks about the various songs he’s written about Andi over the years. The first one was here, on the stage over to the right, back in simpler days.

Jonah slides the record back into the stacks and walks towards the door. It’s time to let past things end; he can’t keep being haunted by the memory of Andi. His feelings have already moved on, leaving only guilt and the finality of breakup behind. How is he supposed to fall for someone else when this entire town used to belong to him and Andi? Still, as he exits the Red Rooster, an idea starts to form in his head.

An idea that would show his crush and himself that he was over Andi. An idea that would say, with no regrets: _I like you, Walker Brodsky. No one else._

 

_That you wouldn't call_

_That you wouldn't come home_

 

————

 

On Wednesday morning, Cyrus is tired and already over the week. He was up late last night talking to TJ, then realized he’d forgotten to do his Bio homework. So after scrawling down some answers about mitosis and phases, Cyrus had fallen into a fitful sleep which hadn’t lasted over six hours.

Andi and Buffy are nowhere to be found before homeroom, so Cyrus goes to his locker alone. TJ has math tutoring on Wednesday mornings, so he won’t miss basketball practice in the afternoons, and he usually arrives just in time for homeroom. Meaning Cyrus is alone. He could look for Jonah, but Jonah has been disappearing in the mornings as of late.

When he arrives at his locker, though, Cyrus stops and blinks twice. Tied between the holes in the blue metal and dangling against the locker is a pair of bright green roller skates.

Roller skates?

Cyrus looks around, thinking maybe someone conveniently dropped their roller derby or Wednesday night skate shoes on his locker. But it’s early, and the hallways are mostly empty. So Cyrus approaches the shoes carefully, lifting one up to inspect it.

Not only are they bright green, his favorite color, but there are tiny dinosaur stickers stuck all across the plastic shoe. He gives the wheels a loose spin, determining that they’re aesthetically pleasing but not necessarily the most supportive nor safe pair of skates. Still, Cyrus stares down at them. They’re clearly for him, but who would leave him roller skates? Andi and Buffy?

“Hello?” Cyrus calls down the hall, just in case anyone left them and tried to run away. Iris looks up and waves at him from where she was gazing at her phone intensely. He nods at her, distracted; it couldn’t have been Iris. They barely speak except in history class, and somehow Iris has become better friends with Andi than Cyrus.

When no one else responds, Cyrus looks back down at the roller skates. Several memories flash in his mind, of skating with the Good Hair Crew when they were younger, of learning to actually skate with TJ, of Andi’s roller-skating birthday a few years ago. Cyrus knows how to skate—right? And if the skates are here, then he should probably wear them—right?  
Feeling slightly like an idiot, Cyrus unties the skates from his locker and slides his feet into the left, and then the right. He holds onto the locker as he tries not to slip. The hallway is completely empty now; Iris has run off somewhere. So Cyrus gets his balance while gripping the locker, inhales slowly, and remembers when TJ taught him to skate.

_Distribute your weight evenly over the sole so you won’t fall over immediately. Use the brake if you need it, but you need it way less than you think you do. Skate in strides, like walking. Focus, and keep breathing. Your instincts will kick in._

Cyrus focuses, and he steps away from the locker. _Stride left, stride right_. And then the instincts take over, just like TJ told him they would. Cyrus is flying over the linoleum tiles, and he catches his breath. He can do this. He can do this. He can—

As the wheel catches on a stray book left in the hallway, another memory comes back to Cyrus: Jonah Beck trying to teach him to skateboard.

Cyrus feels his legs flailing beneath him as the wheels slide backwards. His knees hit the floor in a second. The ground has nearly reached his face when he feels an arm around his stomach stop the fall, pull him backwards, and leave him standing straight up.

“Cyrus?” He relaxes, realizing who it is.

“TJ!” Cyrus tries to spin in a circle, but he nearly slips again. TJ puts one steady arm around his waist and the other on his arm so he won’t fall. “Thanks for catching me,” Cyrus says sheepishly.

“I’m always there to catch you, Cy—but what’s with the roller skates? Joining roller derby?” TJ looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and his lips slightly pursed.

“Um. I don’t know who left them, but they were there. So yeah, I decided to try them out,” Cyrus says, which sounds like a bad explanation but is the truth.

“Okay, well, are you going to skate to homeroom now?” TJ asks, adjusting his math books under his arm.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cyrus says. Over TJ’s shoulder he sees Buffy walking down the hallway, without Andi or Jonah. He waves, and she waves back, eyebrows raised at the skates. He leans forward, and feels his knees protest. “Nope, that’s not gonna work. I think I’ve broken my knees.”

Concerned, TJ glances at Cyrus’s legs. “Aw, Cy, you’ve got bruises all over. You’ve got to go the nurse.”

“I’ll take him!” Buffy chirps, reaching out to take Cyrus’s hand.

TJ stops her for a moment, pulls Cyrus back into a kiss, and then pushes him into Buffy’s arms. “Take good care of him, Driscoll.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I always do.” She takes Cyrus by the arm, positions him in front of her, and holds tight to his arms. “Let’s go, Goodman.”

Cyrus giggles, then shuts his mouth. “Did you leave these? Did Andi?”

Buffy shakes her head, and Cyrus considers that. She could be pretending, but both she and TJ had seemed genuinely shocked by the appearance of electric green roller skates on his feet. Strange.

Buffy manages to push him all the way to the nurse, then runs off to homeroom once he’s situated soundly in a waiting chair. After unlacing the skates and tying together the laces, Cyrus places them in his lap and settles back into the chair. His knees are bruised and aching as he waits, but he’s still warm inside from TJ’s kiss.

Suddenly, Cyrus hears someone slide into the seat next to him. He looks up to see Walker, who he hasn’t seen in months.

“Cyrus, hey,” Walker says. He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes look tired. Cyrus waits, but Walker remains on the edge of his seat, meaning he’s here with a purpose. “Listen, I have a strange question.”

“Okay…” Cyrus says, running one hand over the plastic surface of the skates. “First—how are you? We haven’t talked in a while.”  
Walker nods. “Busy. I’ve got a big studio project due next Friday, and I want it to be part of my portfolio. How’s everyone?”

Swallowing Cyrus tugs on the laces of the skates. He knows that when Buffy ended things with Walker, he basically lost his main friend group. Walker and Amber seem to hang out a lot, but Amber almost never mentions him. There’s Natalie and Archie in Walker’s studio class, who Cyrus thinks he’s friends with. But he doesn’t know how Walker’s doing, not really.

“They’re fine. The usual.”  
“Yeah. Um, the question is—it’s—“ Walker stops himself, and Cyrus can hear the nervous beat of his foot against the tile. “Do you know if Jonah likes boys?”

Cyrus closes a hand around the knot on the laces. He’s suddenly aware of the heartbeat in his chest—did Walker just come out to him? No. But still—

“I’m not sure. He’s never said he has, you know—“  
“Yeah, okay,” Walker says, and Cyrus hears the hitch in his breath as he gets to his feet.

“Walker, wait. He hasn’t said it, but neither had TJ the whole time I knew him. I thought he was the most heterosexual boy on the planet until he randomly came out to me. The point is—we don’t know,” Cyrus says, almost all in one breath.

Walker is silent.

“And,” Cyrus says, “Jonah is one of the most accepting people I know. He’ll be completely chill about it, I promise.”

“Okay.” Walker looks worried, and Cyrus remembers a similar feeling a year and a half ago when he was worrying if TJ would stop being friends with him if Cyrus admitted his crush. The anxiety had been real and consuming; every time Cyrus was with TJ, there was a voice in his head screaming: _YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH._ Cyrus understands.

“I didn’t know you and Jonah were friends,” Cyrus says carefully. Walker nods slowly.

“We have been for a couple months. We’ve known each other since… you know.”

_Since Andi introduced us and then chose Jonah over me._ That would be the implied instance.

It occurs to Cyrus that Walker liking Jonah of all people is quite ironic. But he doesn’t say that; he would be a hypocrite, anyway. He was the one dating for TJ Kippen, the boy his best friend used to hate.

“Listen, Walker. I think you should ask him to the dance. See how it goes. Jonah’s kind, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Walker inhales sharply, and then he nods. _Good luck,_ Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Walker Brodsky has always been an enigma, and feelings for Jonah Beck are just another thing to add to the pile. Cyrus has had his suspicions about Jonah possibly liking not only girls, and now, it seems, they’ll all find out.

As Walker stands and walks away, Cyrus thanks his lucky stars that his crush on Jonah Beck went away—it’s kind of boring liking the boy everyone else does, isn’t it?

He gives the green roller skates one last once-over before rising to his battered knees and stumbling into the nurse’s office.

 

————

 

A cold wind knocks at Buffy’s window, and she glances out into the darkness. Math homework waits unfinished on her desk, but Buffy is sitting on her bed, legs swinging and mind racing. She plays back a series of moments in her head: the encounter with the Valentine’s Day banner, Cyrus’s text asking for help with TJ, Andi’s purposeful avoidance of her in the mornings and after school.

The wind blows harder, and Buffy grits her teeth. A note from her mom flutters where it is pinned to the bulletin board: a scrawl she left on top of a soup can for Buffy to find a few days after she left. The note reads: _You are strong because you are kind, and you are kind because you are strong. I love you. Mom._

She left a week ago for Japan, and Buffy is alone again. Her father is at work, as usual. Buffy doesn’t know if Andi will answer her calls, and if she does, Buffy doesn’t know how she would act—the feigned normalcy from the past year or the new uncomfortableness? She can count on Cyrus, sure, except that he’s always busy with TJ.

So instead of reaching out to anyone, Buffy groans and sort of rolls onto the floor. After stretching out her legs sore from track, she flattens herself on her stomach to look under the bed. A minute of digging her hand around yields the scrap of fabric she’s looking for: a slightly battered pride flag, colored with the blue, purple, and pink of bisexuality.

Buffy glares at it.

_This_ is what’s messing up her life right now. Her stupid feelings. And she can’t even show it in public, or rant to her mom about them, or talk to other LGBT people about confusing signals from possibly straight people. Buffy has told both Andi and Cyrus—Cyrus ordered her the flag. But no one else, so the symbol of her identity just sits untouched beneath her bed.

She runs a hand over the different stripes. When Buffy was ten years old, she wasn’t interested in anyone, girl or boy. Ten year-old Buffy would have thought the flag was made up of lots of pretty colors. When she turned thirteen, she was conscious that who she liked made a difference in who she was, at least for the outside world.

And then she had a tiny crush on Walker, until he tried to ask her to formal with a cult. So Buffy was convinced she was straight even at the beginning of her relationship with Marty, because it was crystal clear in her mind: she liked a boy. Cyrus liked a boy, so he was gay. She liked a boy, so she was straight.

Until the lines weren’t so clear cut anymore.

Like the colors of the flag, blurring into each other so her contact-less self wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them. Buffy knew what it was like to like a boy. What she didn’t know—yet—was what it was like to like a girl. Until.

When Buffy talks about Marty now, she thinks of him in flashes. First: tentative friends, running partners again, cross country teammates as freshman year dawned. Next was that one time they held hands in the movies and never mentioned it again. Then came the pining and the realization she liked him. She _liked_ him. Next was stress and worry and texting all night until one day they were sitting on the ground in Buffy’s room, right where she’s sitting now, and Marty leaned all the way in to kiss her. Then was dating bliss, then more worry, then breakdown. Buffy tried not to think about those phases, about which parts were her fault and which were out of her control.

Buffy also tries not to think about what happened two months after she hung up on Marty and ran to his house, crying, because they had to break up. Marty had disappeared from her life once again; only the ghost memory of him remained, haunting her runs. Marty from the party: her first kiss, her first love, her first true breakup: almost every first.

Almost.

What he could never be, though, was the first girl.

The realization developed starting midway through freshman year, and it just kept coming back to her. Girls. Girls. Girls. It was like running into a wall over and over again, and that wall was the poster of Fifth Harmony pinned across from her bed. That wall was Hayley Kiyoko’s music being constantly stuck in her head. That wall was the stick in her throat when playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Cyrus declared ‘Never have I ever been straight.’

Once she realized it fully, and she could say the word with reasonable calm, it was easy to make the same choice Cyrus had. Actually, it was the opposite of easy. But it felt natural, when she said the two words together. She even told Marty, who told her confidentially he was too, and they bonded over it. The flag came along soon after as a gift from Cyrus. Her spirit was all there: she had the right realization, coming out journey, and self-acceptance.

But sophomore year—that was something Buffy could consider later. She flips the flag over between her hands until she feels centered, and then she slides it beneath her bed again. From across the room, her phone dings with a new message, which she steps to her feet to answer.

**GHC fools**

**kingofthebabytaters: yo gays**

**kingofthebabytaters: guys***

 

Buffy makes a note to throw something at him at some point.

 

**kingofthebabytaters: do you think the plan for tj is good??**

**kingofthebabytaters: I feel like it’s too extra but also not extra enough you know**

**andicrack: okay back up I thought we were set on signs**

**kingofthebabytaters: we aRe! but like is that special?  
andicrack: you made homemade signs that a bunch of ppl are gonna hold up. uh, yeah it is cy**

**notavampireslayer: yo goodman don’t doubt your excellent plan**

**kingofthebabytaters: excellent plans don’t always work out**

**andicrack: name one time—oH are we talking about 8th grade**

**notavampireslayer: this better not be about that freaking CULT**

**kingofthebabytaters: the point is I really want TJ to love it**

**andicrack: maybe perhaps I was buffy**

**andicrack: HE WILL**

**andicrack: stop stressing cy guy**

**kingofthebabytaters: you sound like jonah**

**andicrack: ew**

**notavampireslayer: your Valentine’s Day will be great Cyrus I assure you**

 

Buffy puts her phone down for a second to consider this. How is Cyrus, of all people, stressed out about Valentine’s Day? He has a boyfriend, and not a recent one either. He basically has a guaranteed good day. The last time Buffy celebrated Valentine’s Day for real was with Marty, and that was on the back half of their relationship. Tension was building. What she wouldn’t give for _one_ good Valentine’s Day, when the person she likes likes her back completely.

She’s not supposed to be jealous of Cyrus having a relationship, but she might be, which sounds needy but might be the truth. Does Andi have a valentine? She thinks of Amber, feeling a pang of—something—and turns her phone over in her hand. She’s doing the Andi thing where she hides her feelings from herself if she doesn’t like that she’s feeling them. She learned it from the best, like maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge them, they’ll go away. Buffy taps the back of her phone with her hand; she knows her feelings won’t go away.

Rolling over on her bed, Buffy opens her phone to Netflix. Since it’s the week before Valentine’s Day, sad hours, and even more specifically sad gay hours, Buffy starts to turn on _Love, Simon_. Before she can, though, the ringtone of her phone interrupts the logos. It’s not a text but a call from a FaceTime number. Buffy swallows as she stares at the screen, trying to decide if she wants to pick up.

Who is she trying to trick? The phone is in her hand and the accept button pressed within two seconds.

“Hey, Buffy,” Andi says from the screen. She pushes a piece of bangs back from her eyes and smiles up at Buffy.

“What’s up?”  
“Just wanted to talk. See how you are,” Andi says, which sounds like a weak reasons anyways but even weaker coming from Andi, who never seems sure of herself anymore.

“I’m good…” Buffy says, then gets mad at herself for being boring. “I’ve just been thinking about freshman and sophomore years, you know. Reminiscing.”  
Andi nods along, and the two discuss school, friends, food, preferences, and the origins of Valentine’s Day (which happens to be the execution of two men during the Roman Empire). Buffy ends up modeling her two different options for a dragon costume (don’t ask), and Andi brings the phone downstairs so Buffy can say hello to Bex and Bowie.

An hour and a half later,Buffy can feel her eyelids drifting closed but doesn’t want to stop talking. It’s been a good several months since they have really talked like this—and it’s been a year since they’ve talked for so long with a comfortable ease. Everything dates back to one year ago, to what Buffy regrets every day and doesn’t regret at all. Her mother would tell her to ignore the regrets and just live, which is exactly what she’s trying to do. But _Andi_ and her complicated feelings always make things hard, just like they did with Jonah. Buffy knows, somewhere, that the complicated feelings aren’t just from Andi; they’re from her too. But it’s easier to blame the problem that’s on the surface rather than the problem deep inside of her.

Because the problem deep inside is related to a word Buffy has only heard therapists say with meaning: commitment. And the second issue has to do with the flag underneath her bed.

But Buffy has her mom and Cyrus and yes, Andi, to worry about, so she doesn’t think about these things.

“So Buffy,” Andi says, slicing through her thoughts. “Is Marty dating someone right now?”  
“He’s dating Eleanor,” Buffy says as quickly as possible, then stops. Andi’s jealousy of Marty is an idea she can get behind, if it gives her any leverage.

“Yeah? What happened to Ross?”

Buffy laughs, only because Marty’s first boyfriend was a crackhead who he loved too much. Of course Ross broke Marty’s heart. “Ross is long gone.”

Andi nods, slowly. Then she says what Buffy thinks she’s wanted to say all this time: “I think Jonah likes someone else.”  
_I think_ you _like someone else,_ Buffy thinks, but she shuts herself up. “Who? Amber?”

Andi laughs. “Hopefully not, since she’s definitely a lesbian.”

“Jonah has a history of bad crushes.” _Ouch._

_“Jonah_ can like whoever he wants, I don’t care. I hope he has a good Valentine’s Day. WIthout me.” Andi looks very pleased with herself, which she honestly should be. On-again-off again Jonah and Andi had lasted multiple years and in a year alone had undergone seven separate disasters (Buffy counted). And yet, here she is, four months later, still a little caught up on him.

Jealousy stings.

“Good to know you’re being civil about it, Andi,” Buffy replies, not really paying attention.

“Oh, I am. Libby and I still have plans to form a club: the ex-Jonahs.”  
“Form that club and I may have to block your number and burn my phone for good measure.” Andi giggles.

“Wow, we’re really bad with boys, huh?” Andi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Girls too,” Buffy agrees, and Andi smiles a tiny smile. Buffy thinks of the flag and counts to three the different shades until she’s calm again. But when Andi _smiles_ , with that gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—

Time to shut this down before it got away from her.

“Look at us,” Andi says, her chinks blushing pink. “Single on Valentine’s Day. Maybe we _should_ go to the dance together. After all, Cyrus abandoned us by getting a boyfriend. We’re the same as we’ve always been.”

As Buffy nods along to agree that _yes_ , they should go to the dance together, _yes,_ it would be extremely fun, and _yes_ , Cyrus is now an official traitor to the Good Hair Crew and they need to hold auditions for a replacement immediately, she turns over that statement in her head like she had the note from her mom and the flag.

Somewhere around 12:42 am, Andi whispers a goodbye from the relative darkness of her room. Buffy mumbles one back, blinking sleepy tears from her eyes and waving with a slightly glowing hand. Andi waves back, and neither of them hang up until Buffy feels her eyes actually drift shut and finally does. She falls asleep in the next minute with Andi stuck in her mind, playing on repeat next to the words _Valentine’s Day_ and _dance._

On the other end, Andi stays awake until an even more ungodly hour, mostly staring at her window and wondering. Wondering how she can have messed up something so badly yet be lucky enough not to have ruined everything. Wondering if Jonah will ever return her third favorite sweatshirt. Wondering if Buffy is asleep now or laying awake thinking. Wondering whether every decision she makes is a massive mistake or a useless choice. Wondering how she’s going to get through this.

_We’re the same as we’ve always been._

But they’re not. The unspoken between them is a living, breathing thing: one year old. Andi remembers the day; how could she not? Buffy may think Andi has forgotten it; she hasn’t. The reason sticks in her head every day: the reason for the tension, the reason for the discomfort, the reason for a year of needless separation.

It’s just a reason Andi can never even begin to acknowledge.

And so she doesn’t.


End file.
